


Closed

by andthatiswhythelightningstruck



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Earth-2 Harrison Wells - Freeform, M/M, Missing Scene, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthatiswhythelightningstruck/pseuds/andthatiswhythelightningstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from 2x05. Barry’s bumping around STAR Labs and a reluctant Harrison Wells is the one who has to direct him. Oh, and Barry also has to get dressed for his date…and of course, Harrison has to help him with that, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closed

“Barry, your other – no.”

Harrison Wells watched with some annoyance as Barry Allen continued to bumble around, crashing into walls and knocking over equipment in the process. Crisco – wait, no; his name was _Cisco_ (or was it really Crisco? Names…Harrison could never keep track of them), and Iris were both grabbing his arms, slowly directing Barry to the other side of the room.

“Okay – if this date thing is going to work, I’m going to have to make some modifications done to these glasses,” Cisco was saying, setting Barry down into a chair. There was a loud thump, followed by a low stammering sound – mostly Barry trying to find the area around him. “And maybe…you should try to get dressed. Or something. Go home and get it done – but…it’s probably not a good idea to use your speed, since –”

“I can’t see anything and I’d probably end up crashing into something?” Barry supplied, his unseeing eyes blinking innocently. “And I’d leave a Barry-shaped hole wherever I go.”

“No Barry-shaped holes in Central City will be necessary,” Iris assured, giving Barry’s arm a quick squeeze. “I need to head back to work – Linda has no idea what’s coming for her, and I want to be around if Light bothers to show up.” She met Barry’s eyes, though they slid right past her. “You know where the house keys are, right? And Cisco or Caitlin might be able to help you –”

“Caitlin’s going to be staking it out with Jay,” Cisco said over his shoulder, “and I still need to work on this whole glasses thing.”

Iris sighed. “Maybe Dad –”

“Joe’s been organizing other cops to get ready for Light’s next attack,” Barry pointed out.

Iris let out a frustrated groan. “Well, you can’t exactly go home by yourself!”

“I can take a taxi,” Barry offered. “Or the subway.”

“You’re blind. You’ll need someone to help you out.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“ _Barry…_ ” Iris shook her head, disbelieved. “We need to find _someone_ who could –” Her eyes lifted up to meet Harrison’s eyes. He took a half-step back, but Iris was already walking his way. Harrison desperately tried to look as uninterested as possible – maybe that would put her off – but to his disappointment and surprise, Iris’ expression remained as stubborn as ever.

“Harrison,” she said, stopping in front of him. “Do you think you could help Barry out?”

“Are you fu – _Iris,_ no way! Bad idea! Bad idea!” Cisco shouted from his station.

Still, Iris kept her eyes on Harrison. “You just need to get into the taxi with Barry and make sure he’s able to change into some clothes without tripping over himself. Simple enough job, right? And it’ll only take a few minutes.”

Harrison flicked his eyes briefly over Iris’ shoulder. Cisco was already giving him a death glare (one that could probably bury Harrison six feet underground, if Cisco possessed such powers); Barry, on the other hand, didn’t seem to complain. His eyebrows were lifted – though Harrison wasn’t sure if it was due to the situation at hand or the blindness.

“I don’t think so,” Harrison said flatly.

“Why?”

“He’ll find out where you guys live,” Cisco groaned. “Where you guys _live._ ”

“He would have found out eventually,” Iris said calmly. “Dr. Wells?”

“I still don’t think so.”

“Then don’t think; just do it,” Iris replied. She grabbed her coat off a chair, and swinging it over his shoulder, added, “I’m pretty sure you won’t even have to actually watch Barry change – just describe an outfit for him, help him figure out where the arm and leg holes are, and then come back. That’s it.”

“How can you trust him?” Cisco asked incredulously. Harrison, for once, couldn’t help but to agree – he was finding it uncanny how out of everyone in this room, it was Iris West who treated him with the most amount of respect. (Besides Barry. But Barry was…a different case – that much, Harrison had already figured out – with some intrigue.)

“He’s not the other Dr. Wells,” Iris responded. “And if he is who says he is, then that’s that.”

\--

Harrison pretended not to feel Barry’s hand clutching to his arm. Pretended not to feel Barry leaning slightly into him as he fumbled for the keys to the house. He heard Barry laughing nervously, probably more out of embarrassment for taking so long.

“I can do it,” Harrison finally said.

“Huh?”

Harrison outstretched his hand. “I can unlock the door – just tell me which key it – if you remember.”

“Uh – right,” Barry dangled the keys from his fingertips. “Um – where’s your hand?”

Harrison pressed down the urge to sigh. He only took the keys from Barry, asking, “Which one is it?”

“Third one. Kind of a brassy color. Medium-sized compared to the others.”

Harrison found it – and managed to unlock the door. He swung it open to find himself standing before a pleasant living room – a set of stars – a hallway leading to a kitchen…he could see several framed photographs sitting on the fireplace mantle. Harrison recognized Barry and Iris in one frame. The two were both beaming up at the camera, heads slightly leaned in together and looking like they haven’t a care in the world.

Harrison tore his eyes away from the frame. “Where’s your room?” he asked.

“Up the stairs,” Barry replied, an arm swinging at the empty space in front of him. “Second door to the left. And…uh…” Barry smiled bashfully. “It’s kind of a mess, just warning you.”

“I thought so,” Harrison muttered.

Barry’s smile wavered for a second – but then he recovered. Clearing his throat, Barry gestured again (almost whacking Harrison in the face in the process – Harrison had to duck) and said, “Well…up we go.”

Harrison nodded – and then, remembering that Barry couldn’t see him, said, “Here – lift your foot.”

Barry obeyed Harrison’s orders with ease, his hand tightening over his only slightly whenever he had to climb up another step. A rhythm started – it started with Harrison murmuring the directions to where Barry’s feet needed to go…and then Harrison would hear Barry’s breath hitch as he lifted his foot – a heavy, too-loud _thud_ would follow, and then another uneven step…

This pattern repeated and repeated and repeated until Harrison found Barry’s room.

And Barry was right. The room was a mess, with clothes strewn in piles and books scattered on the bed and on a desk pushed to the side of the room. Harrison could feel Barry shift uncomfortably beside him.

“If I could, I’d clean up right now,” Barry said apologetically, “but – uh – I don’t think that’s a good idea, seeing that – uh –” He tapped the side of his head. “I’ve got this whole situation going on.”

“Mm,” Harrison murmured, leading Barry into the room. Harrison sat Barry down on the bed, careful to make sure that Barry wouldn’t accidentally fall off. (To be honest, Barry looked like the type of person who would.)

“So…just pull out something and give me a quick description of it,” Barry said, leaning back a little. “And – uh – just make sure it’s not all black, will you? Kind of want to look casual. But not too casual! You know…dressy casual? Is that still a thing?” Barry gave Harrison another sheepish look. (Actually, Barry’s eyes were facing the wall to Harrison’s right.)

“I’ll just give you a description,” Harrison said bluntly, opening Barry’s closet door. He surveyed the suits inside. He found it funny how Barry had mentioned avoiding the all-black outfit, since Harrison found several all-black suits….well. Harrison nudged a hand through the clothes, saying over his shoulder, “There’s not enough variation to choose from.”

“I know,” Barry replied. “But do you think you can make the most of it?”

Harrison lifted a grey jacket. He held it up in front of Barry. “Grey jacket,” he said promptly. “The one with –”

“The red inside,” Barry finished for Harrison. His nose wrinkled slightly as he shook his head. “Maybe not.”

Harrison pushed the suit back into the closet. “There’s a white –”

“ _Nooo…_ ”

“There’s one with stripes.”

Barry frowned again. “I’m pretty sure that one’s Joe’s.”

“Joe?” Harrison murmured, not really paying attention.

“You know, my foster dad. Um…the guy who tried to shoot you.”

 _Ah. Now_ Harrison remembered.

Instead of giving a proper response, Harrison tugged out a dark blue suit. He held it up in front of Barry, saying simply, “Blue.”

Barry paused. Then, he shrugged his shoulders. “Better than the white one.” He stuck out a hand. “Here,” he added, “just…show me where to put my arms and legs.”

Harrison pressed down a sigh. “I’m never doing this again,” he grumbled under his breath, grabbing Barry’s wrist. He guided it to the arm sleeves – and after a few moments, Barry nodded in clarification. Satisfied by this, Harrison draped the suit on the bed as Barry started to shrug off his sweatshirt. He let it fall to the floor, and then Barry was standing shirtless in front of Harrison, asking, “Er…you think you can grab me a shirt?”

Harrison didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed a white shirt from inside the closet and wordlessly handed it off to Barry. The younger man started to shove it over his head before squeaking, “Um – the buttons. They’re…Harr – Dr. Wells? Help?”

Harrison stared with some incredulousness as Barry helplessly struggled in his shirt, only a tuft of his light brown hair sticking up from the head hole. His arms were gesticulating wildly, maybe looking for Harrison or some other thing to support him. The sight was almost funny.

“Barry, stop moving,” Harrison instructed. He grabbed Barry’s hands for good measure, quickly lowering them to his sides. Instantly, Barry stilled. Standing on the tips of his toes, Harrison unbuttoned the collar buttons. His hands made quick work, undoing all of the little buttons until the shirt slid down Barry’s muscled torso.

“Do you need me to re-button them again, or –”

“Please?”

Harrison rolled his eyes. “I’m rolling my eyes at you,” he said when no response came. To Barry’s credit, the speedster only laughed. He patiently waited as Harrison’s fingers started to skim up the shirt again, closing the fabric up and –

Harrison’s fingers brushed against Barry’s skin. The older man found that Barry’s…body was warm. Heated, strong – not boxer or soldier-strong, but runner-strong. Athletic-strong. Graceful-strong. Harrison could feel warmth pulsing from underneath Barry’s skin, spreading to Harrison’s fingertips – and for a moment, he felt his hands pause.

“Something wrong?” Barry’s voice was soft. (Had it gotten soft? Or was it just Harrison’s imagination?)

“No,” Harrison replied quickly, getting the rest of the buttons done. “You weren’t moving around as much – it made the job easier.”

“Ah.” Barry paused. “Um, thanks.”

“I’m still not doing that again,” Harrison grumbled, standing up. He pushed Barry’s trousers to the chest. “You can do the pants by yourself, I’m assuming?”

For the first time that day, Barry’s cheeks flushed pink. “Er…yeah,” he replied with a nervous laugh. “Um. Right – thanks again.”

“I’ll be waiting outside.”

With that, Harrison left as quickly as he could – but not before he could catch the slight smile on Barry’s face.

Damn Iris West.


End file.
